


Foutre!

by nimiumcaelo



Category: Psmith - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Porn with Feelings, References to Keats, References to Monty Python, Sex Education, Studying as a Metaphor for Sex, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimiumcaelo/pseuds/nimiumcaelo
Summary: teenagers being all cool and collected during sex is fake





	Foutre!

**Author's Note:**

> teenagers being all cool and collected during sex is fake

“Good morning, class,” Mr. John Cleese greeted with a wave of his hand. He was bent over his desk, organizing his notes, as the students filed in and sat down. “Please sit down.”

“Good morning, Mr. Cleese,” the students replied in a monotone.

“Today, I will be continuing our discussion on sex.” Mr. Cleese turned, then, to face the class. He clapped his hands together. “Sex. Sex, sex, sex. Where had we gotten to with sex, boys?”

“Er…”

“Ah…”

“Huhm…”

“Come now, boys, you musn’t forget this easily. Where was I? Had I gotten to the penetration of the penis into the vagina, yet?”

“Ah…no, sir.” The boys shook their heads collectively.

“What about foreplay? Had I gotten to foreplay?”

Several boys scratched their heads. “Err…yes, sir.”

“Good, good.” Mr. Cleese began pacing leisurely at the front of the room. “We’ve got foreplay under our belt (haha). What about vaginal juices? Did we do vaginal juices?”

There was a general humming and hawing. Nobody put forth an answer.

“Now, boys, I must have an answer,” Mr. Cleese asserted. “Did we or did we not cover vaginal juices? Thompson?”

The boy looked up. “Sir?”

“Did we cover vaginal juices yet in our lessons?”

“I believe we did, sir.”

“Good. Then you can tell me how one may stimulate the flow of vaginal juices?”

“Er…” Thompson faltered.

Mike raised his hand.

“Yes, Jackson?”

“By rubbing the clitoris, sir?”

Mr. Cleese fixed Mike with an inscrutable gaze. After several long, uncomfortable moments during which Mike’s face flushed deeply, he said, “You might _kiss_ her first, Jackson! You might give her a little kiss, first!”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Mr. Cleese sighed, and addressed the rest of the room. “What are some other ways one might stimulate the flow of vaginal juices, boys?”

“By sucking the nipples, sir?”

“Yes, good. Any others?”

“Rubbing the thighs, sir?”

“Yes, yes, that might work. All of these might work to stimulate the flow of vaginal juices before rushing in and rubbing the clitoris. I want you to write that down,” Mr. Cleese instructed with a raised finger, “ ‘foreplay important before sex. Especially concerning flow of vaginal juices.’”

There was a hush of pencils scratching against paper.

“Do you have that down, now, boys?”

“Yes, Mr. Cleese.”

Mr. Cleese smiled. “Good. And the flow of vaginal juices is important because…?”

“It helps to lubricate, sir!”

“Lubrication, sir!”

“Yes, both of you are correct. The flow of vaginal juices helps to lubricate for sex. Lubrication is very important, otherwise both parties will find themselves very uncomfortable, though the discomfort is primarily on the part of the female involved. Write that down, now, ‘lubrication very important’!”

“Next,” Mr. Cleese continued. “We move onto penetration. The whole point of lubrication is the penetration of the penis into the vagina, without which, sex would not be sex. Nolan!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Quit dozing off! I have half a mind to give you all an exam next week.”

“Oh, sir!” the class groaned.

“Don’t ‘oh, sir’ me! You will have an exam, and you will like it. As a matter of fact, I have half a mind to instruct you to get some real, practical experience, though I know it’s not fair to expect all of you to be able to find a willing partner (haha).” Mr. Cleese cleared his throat. “Yes, an exam. We will have it next week Thursday, and I expect all of you to study hard! Remember—lubrication is paramount!—Oh!” Mr. Cleese whirled around, then produced a basket from behind his desk. “In here are several bottles of lubrication. If you plan on gathering practical experience before the test, I urge you to take with you some of this. Even the most sensual foreplay can sometimes leave something to be desired; besides, some women simply enjoy extra lubrication. So! Don’t forget to take one of these, and only engage in intercourse with a willing partner! That is all, class, and remember! Exam on Thursday!”

 

~

 

“Mr. Cleese is beastly,” Jellicoe groaned. “How am I supposed to study for _another_ exam? I’ve already got four that week!”

“Yes, Comrade Cleese does indeed seem obsessed with excellence and thoroughness in this particular area,” Psmith commented. “It makes one concerned that he will spread his hunger for perfection to the other masters, thereby effecting a general Rush for Scholarliness.”

Mike fingered the little bottle in his pocket. “I don’t think it’s all that. I mean, it might have been another geometry exam.”

“You make a fine point, Comrade, yet what of the difficult nature of studying for Mr. Cleese’s pet subject? One cannot learn everything from books, after all, try though one might.”

“I plan on getting some real ‘practical experience,’ as he calls it,” Jellicoe declared. “I’m not going through this rotten class and not getting anything out of it.”

“A fine idea, Comrade Jellicoe!” Psmith praised. “I admire your resourcefulness—your desire for real-world application! I wish you all the best in finding a partner for your…shall we say, _studying_ ,” Psmith added with a sly smile.

Mike stood abruptly. “I say, do you chaps mind if I open a window? It’s beastly stuffy in here.”

“Not at all, Comrade,” Psmith said with a wave of his hand. “Open away.”

 

~

 

It had been nearly a week since Mr. Cleese assigned that exam. Most of the boys went the way of ‘practical experience,’ Jellicoe included, though there were those few who contented themselves with reviewing their notes. Mike was one of the few. Psmith had expressed surprise at Mike’s unusual reluctance to take the pragmatic route, but had announced that he, too, had no desire to find some willing partner.

Yet as the days passed by, Mike found himself itching for something more. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get some ‘practical experience,’ it was that he didn’t want to do it with one of those girls from the village. They were alright if you were into that sort of thing, but for Mike they simply wouldn’t do. There was only one person who Mike wanted ‘practical experience’ with, and that person was not a girl.

Ever since Mr. Cleese had assigned the exam, Mike had been thinking of ways to put the idea before Psmith, but none of them seemed seductive or interesting enough to work. Surely, Psmith wouldn’t agree to be anyone’s partner who didn’t propose with a thirty-minute speech, detailing the societal benefits of their union. All Mike could think of was something along the lines of, “So how about studying for that exam, old chap?”

It certainly wasn’t helping that Psmith had apparently grown more tactile with Mike in the past few days, leaning over his shoulder and gripping Mike’s arm and being an overall nuisance with regard to Mike’s sanity. It was almost as if he wanted Mike to—!

Mike stiffened.

“Something the matter, Comrade?” Psmith murmured into Mike’s ear, warm breath puffing against his neck. Psmith’s side was leaned up against Mike’s back, with his head practically on Mike’s shoulder.

Mike, wishing to engage in a little procrastination, had suggested they wander over to a field on the other side of the woods, nestled between a hill and a mostly empty cemetary. Getting Psmith alone had not been his first priority, though it had been an added bonus.

“Comrade?” Psmith repeated at Mike’s prolonged silence.

“Sorry,” Mike blurted. “I was only…” He trailed off. Then, gathering his courage, he cleared his throat. “So how about studying for that exam, old chap?”

“Which one? The upcoming literature or the more distant Latin? I confess I have not yet read the entirety of the assigned Latin text, though I was intending to this weekend. It is, after all, several weeks away, still. Or perhaps you were referring to something else…?”

Mike licked his lips. “Yes, I was rather. I meant Cleese’s exam.”

Mike could feel the minute shiftings of Psmith’s ribcage against his own. “Ah, yes. That exam. The exam which has all of Sedleigh beside themselves. Half of our academic colleagues seem finally to experience the joys of scholastic preparation, and the other half are cursing Comrade Cleese’s name. I dare say those latter half are justified, if only for the near ridiculous difficulty of studying for such an exam. How do you propose to go about it, Comrade? Have you brought your notes? I believe I inadvertently left mine in my desk, but I could retrieve them if you so wished.”

“No, no, that’s not what I—I rather meant studying in a more…practical manner.”

Thus the other shoe dropped.

“Practical, Comrade? Are you suggesting we find ourselves some Lower Borlockians to study with? One must be clear about these things, after all.”

Mike turned and looked Psmith in the eye. He was somewhat surprised to find Psmith blushing nearly as much as he was.

“I was suggesting,” Mike murmured. “That we could, perhaps, study together.” His hand found its way up to Psmith’s knee. “If you wouldn’t mind, that is.”

Psmith let slip a tiny grin. “I thought you’d never ask. Where shall we begin? I dare say most of the material is useless in this scenario, what with neither of us being in possession of vaginas to lubricate. Though, depending on what you’re in favor of, I should rather appreciate some for my own, personal, use. That is, if you’re up to that…?”

“I’m up for anything,” Mike said plainly. His hand slid further up Psmith’s thigh. “Should we begin?”

“Of course, of course. Let us, as they say, begin. Step one, according to Cleese, is kissing. Shall I do the—“

Psmith was cut off, rather promptly, by Mike beginning step one. The kiss was somewhat awkward, what with Psmith having been speaking immediately beforehand, but they moved past that with grace. Mike shivered when he felt Psmith’s tongue trace his lip.

“I must say, Comrade,” Psmith teased when they paused for breath, “if that sort of tame maneuovre sets you a-flutter, then I don’t know how we shall get through with the rest of it.”

“It’s not like I’ve done this often,” Mike huffed defensively. “I’m sorry if I’m not up to Eton’s standards. We don’t have to contin—“

Psmith stopped him with a finger against Mike’s lips. “Ah, ah, ah. We are not stopping, Comrade; least of all because of your skill, which really is not all that meager. I find it charming, rather than repellent, and I would rather you did, too. Now, should we move on to step two? I do believe step one has been completed satisfactorily.”

“What’s step two again?” Mike asked, licking his lips. His head had been somewhat fuzzy ever since they’d officially begun.

“I believe— _oh—_ I believe you have just begun it. Step two: foreplay.”

Mike pressed Psmith’s shoulders into the grass, leaning over him until they were pressed together from knee to chest. Psmith carefully untucked Mike’s shirt from his trousers and slid his hands up to Mike’s back, long fingers tracing the ridges of tensed muscle there. Mike pressed wet, dragging kisses along Psmith’s jaw. They both gasped when Mike rolled his hips forward.

“That’s the spirit, Comrade,” Psmith breathed. “What was it Cleese said? ‘Stimulate the penis until it is fully or near-fully erect’? I do believe you are working perfectly towards that goal— _oh_.”

Mike fumbled with Psmith’s collar pin, tugging rather hastily at the wrong bit of the tie-knot, causing it to constrict around Psmith’s neck.

“I must say, I did not peg you for one excited by the asphyxiation of one’s partner, Comrade.”

“Sorry,” Mike muttered. He loosened the tie quickly. “Would you mind getting that bit off, though? It’s rather in the way.”

“Not at all, Comrade; not at all.”

Psmith made quick work of the collar pin and tossed it into the grass somewhere beside them. His hands then divested Mike of his shirt and started pulling at Mike’s trousers.

“Hold on a minute, Smith,” Mike grinned. “I still need to get _your_ shirt off. It’s not a race.”

“Oh?” Psmith smirked up at Mike. “I was rather under the impression that you were fond of a bit of competition, Comrade Jackson. Or was I mistaken?”

Mike pressed Psmith’s hips more firmly down into the grass. “Was that a challenge?”

“It might have been,” Psmith gasped. “Depending on whether my saying ‘yes’ will intensify this step two bit…”

Mike laughed, then kissed Psmith firmly whilst unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off of his shoulders. Psmith raised himself up on his elbows to facilitate the action and remained thus when he saw Mike begin to divest him of his trousers.

“I really do not see why you had any concerns as to your abilities, Comrade,” Psmith mused dreamily. “You are certainly performing adequately, if not more than.”

Mike, in lieu of a reply, tugged Psmith’s trousers down and off of his long, knobbly legs. Then, Mike pressed his face against the bulge in Psmith’s undergarments, mouthing lazily through the cloth. Psmith’s thighs tensed and he nearly kneed Mike in the ribs.

“I say, Comrade, you may wish to warn one before such an action.”

“I rather thought the idea was to progress,” Mike murmured slyly into the soft dip of Psmith’s hipbone. “Or is such a tame maneuver too much for you?”

Psmith giggled and let his head fall back. Waving a hand and brushing it through Mike’s tousled hair, he said, “You make a fair point, Comrade. Do continue.”

Mike did not have to be told twice; he crooked his fingers in the waistband of Psmith’s undergarments and pulled off.

“Comrade,” Psmith gasped when Mike looped his fingers loosely around Psmith’s erection. “Comrade, I do believe I have been unfair.”

Mike licked a stripe up the shaft. “Pardon?”

Psmith waved his free hand. “We are quite unequal in these proceedings, Comrade. I have been remiss, and I apologize. This is quite unbecoming in a socialist…I should…”

Mike pressed his thumbs into the dips of Psmith’s hips and sucked the tip into his mouth. Psmith’s hands clenched spasmodically, tugging almost painfully at Mike’s hair. Mike pressed forward and took more of him into his mouth. It was not the best version of the act that Psmith had ever received, yet it certainly was the most poignant.

“Oh, yes, you certainly have no need for anxiety on that point, Comrade, certainly—I—really can’t understand why you would think yourself inadequate here…Yes, technically, you are not the most experienced partner, yet you are without doubt the most beautiful—exquisite—specimen I have ever had the privilege to behold doing—doing that with…You have absolutely no need for hesitation, my dear Comrade—rival the Greeks…with your— _hah—_ you may wish to…”

Mike pulled back and watched as Psmith jerked his hips upward and spent across his stomach. Psmith was horribly flushed and pulled Mike down for a breathless kiss.

“How’s that for step two?” Mike asked when they broke apart. “Do you feel I adequately intensified things? Or do you need more?”

“Oh, no, Comrade, that was more than adequate for step two.” He stroked his hands along Mike’s shoulders. “Now, for step three.”

Mike sucked a light mark low on Psmith’s neck. “What’s that again? Lubrication?”

“In this case, yes, I believe so. Do you have the…?”

“It’s in my jacket.”

Psmith fetched the small bottle promptly and handed it off to Mike. “Do be generous in your application. I find one usually cannot overestimate in this affair.”

“Alright. Tell me if I do anything wrong.”

Psmith laughed. “You shall be the first to hear, Comrade.”

Mike squeezed a glob of the lubrication on his fingers. He pulled Psmith’s legs up, then leaned back over Psmith and kissed under the line of his jaw as he worked the tip of one finger in. Psmith tensed somewhat, but relaxed as Mike used his free hand to smooth back Psmith’s hair and pressed chaste kisses across his cheeks. After a moment, Mike eased another finger in.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

“Perfectly fine. You are an incredibly rapid learner, Comrade. I am quite impressed. I believe you may add another, now.”

Psmith kissed Mike passionately then, licking into his mouth and tugging with his teeth at Mike’s bottom lip. Mike tested around, then crooked his fingers and Psmith bit down on his lip hard, breaking the skin.

“Oh, I say, Comrade Jackson, I’m dreadfully sorry,” Psmith prattled as Mike pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the grass. “Though I must say, if you wish to avoid such consequences in future, do let me know before doing that again. Now, shall we progress to step four?”

Mike prodded gingerly at the cut with his tongue. “If you’re up for it.”

Psmith wrapped his arms around Mike’s and pulled them together. “I was the one who suggested it, Comrade. I would not have done had I felt unready.” He nibbled lightly at Mike’s defined collarbone. “Now, I intend to make up for any inattentiveness on my part. I shall play the passionate lover, and you shall play my beautiful beloved, if it’s all the same to you.” He caressed Mike’s cheek, then started trailing a path of kisses down to Mike’s sternum.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Mike said after Psmith had made a good show of his attentiveness, divesting Mike of his trousers and undergarments. “It’s time for step four.” He gripped Psmith’s hips and pulled them together.  
“Oh, yes,” Psmith purred. “This is most satisfactory, Comrade. Continue, if you will…”

Mike lined himself up and pushed in slowly. Psmith had his hands linked around the small of Mike’s back and he tugged rather fiercely when after Mike continued in this cautious behavior.

“I should rather appreciate it if you would speed things up, Comrade. I do not usually intend to be demanding, but this is a rather special circumstance—”

Crowding in close to him, Mike thrust in fully and cut off Psmith’s rambling. Spurred on by this moment of victory, Mike then continued, setting a passionate and athletic pace which seemed to suit the both of them admirably: Psmith screwed his eyes shut and kept up a long moan; Mike bit at his sore lip and buried his face in Psmith’s neck.

Psmith surprised Mike somewhat when he started mumbling phrases in French and Latin. Mike’s ears caught the standard “ _Te amo_ ” and “ _Tu es beau_ ,” but also several others that he didn’t know, such as “ _Ou as-tu été toute ma vie?_ ” and a particularly vehement “ _Faex!_ ”

“What the devil are you on about, Smith?”

Psmith, overcome, braced his hands against Mike’s tensed biceps. “ Nothing of any importance, I assure you. I was simply—cataloging your praises for future references by the masses…”

“What, are you going to publish a book?” Mike scoffed.

“No, no, no—I couldn’t bear to share this with anyone else.”

Mike smoothed a hand under Psmith’s knee and hiked his leg higher up. “Then what do you mean?”

“I meant that—that—that if, for some reason, we are discovered here, in this state, then I would rather the general public know what a marvelous shag you are than to assume that I bedded you out of pity.”

“No offense, but I’m fairly certain the general public would assume—that I had bedded you out of pity, not the other way ‘round.”

Psmith kissed at the hollow of Mike’s neck. “You speak truth, unfortunate though it may be. Now, let us put from our minds the average Sedleighan or, heaven forbid, the average Lower Borlockian, and concentrate on the matter at hand.”

“I don’t know about you, but I rather was already,” Mike murmured, licking into Psmith’s mouth.

Thus matters became quite focused for the next several minutes. The clarity was shattered when, with several stuttering final thrusts on the part of Mike, Psmith spent for the second time between their quivering bodies, Mike following soon afterwards. They lay together, arms loose about the other’s form, panting into the humid air around them. Psmith, naturally, was the first to break the silence.

“I do hope I was not chosen as your studying partner simply because of the facility,” he breathed. “That would, I confess, cut rather to the quick.”

Mike, drowsy, took several moments to process what Psmith had said. “Oh,” he croaked finally. “No, that’s not why, really. I rather wanted to anyway—been on my mind.”

Psmith petted a hand through Mike’s hair. “Wonderful. The feelings are mutual, of course. One’s heart flutters whenever you are near and the sky grows bluer and all that rot, as the poets say. Your face and form keep me up at night, filling my dreams with the most improper fantasies. Scenery is fine, but thy nature better. Keats.”

Mike huffed a laugh. “Really? You never said anything.”

“Neither did you,” Psmith pointed out. “If we are keeping score.”

Mike squeezed Psmith tighter about the waist and pressed his face into Psmith’s sternum. “ Tell me what you thought about.”

“Well, to begin with, this very scenario featured quite prominently in my thoughts. The post-coital embrace is one which I have always enjoyed.”

“Alright. What else?”

Psmith’s smile was slow and cat-like. “Would you care for the tamer stuff at the beginning and us working our way towards the shocking, or would you prefer the shocking first?”

“Surely it can’t be that shocking, whatever you’ve thought up. You’re rather tame yourself, Smith. ”

“Oh? Let us see for ourselves, then. One of my fonder imaginings featured us engaging in the most despicable acts upon Comrade Downing’s desk.”

Mike smirked .

“You,” Psmith continued, “were partially undressed, with the remainder being covered by your soiled cricket whites. The whole room had the smell of grass and yourself permeating throughout. Comrade Downing was, as a matter of fact, just outside the door, rattling the locked door handle and threatening to break in with a heavy chair. You had your hand over my mouth and were insisting I be quiet, but I found that, of course, horribly difficult. We finished just as Comrade Downing broke in…Have I shocked you yet?”

“Not really,” Mike lied. “Though I must say I rather thought you’d have picked the headmaster’s desk to get buggered on, if you were going to pick anyone’s.”

“Go big or, as they say, go home, was that your thinking, Comrade? Yes, indeed, the headmaster’s desk would be much better, would it not? We could have the entire school listening at the windows and I would have to bite your shoulder just to be quiet enough.”

Mike started nipping lightly at Psmith’s neck. “Go on.”

“You could hold me down and I would push and push against you but you wouldn’t let up. Or, I could be against the door, with the royal family on the other side.”

Mike laughed. “You do have an interest in being observed. Perhaps I should have picked a more public location.”

“Not being observed, Comrade—nearly being observed. There is a world of difference.”

Mike pushed himself up onto his forearms. “What was that bit about being held down? Are you keen on that?”

“Oh, frightfully,” Psmith gasped. “I should very much appreciate it if you would oblige.”

Mike obliged.

 

~

 

“ Now,” Mr. Cleese began, pacing once more before the class. “I hope you have all studied hard (haha) for the exam. You will have thirty minutes each to complete the following. First, you shall come up, one at a time, to this bed,” Mr. Cleese unfolded a bed from the wall, “and lay upon it. Next, you shall either take one of the available pillows or a willing participant and give me your best show of proper sex technique. I shall grade you on your skill and confidence, so it is best to use what maneuovres you have already practiced or studied. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Cleese.”

“Good, good. Now, let us begin. Adair? You shall go first.”

“Yes, sir.”

Psmith and Mike shared a quick, flushed glance.

**Author's Note:**

> I totally didn't steal these ideas from aurilly's beautiful prompts ([x](https://aurilly.dreamwidth.org/80357.html#cutid4))([x](https://aurilly.dreamwidth.org/80357.html#cutid1))... nope, not at all... XD  
> hmu with other fic ideas [here](https://ask.fm/nimiumcaelo)!


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